Maigret and the Man on the Boulevard Read Free Page B

he never dreamed, when he left the house this morning…”
    She broke off abruptly to say:
    â€œWhy are his eyes still open?”
    â€œYou may close them now, if you wish.”
    She and her sister exchanged glances, as though uncertain which of them should undertake the task. In the end, it was the widow who did it, with ritual solemnity, murmuring:
    â€œPoor Louis.”
    Then, all of a sudden, she caught sight of the shoes projecting beyond the sheet covering the body. She frowned.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    Maigret couldn’t imagine what she was talking about.
    â€œWho put those shoes on him?”
    â€œHe was wearing them when we found him.”
    â€œIt’s not possible. Louis never wore brown shoes. At any rate, never during the twenty-six years that we were married. As he very well knew, I wouldn’t have permitted it. Do you see, Jeanne?”
    Jeanne nodded.
    â€œI think, perhaps, you’d better make sure the clothes he is wearing are his own. I take it you are in no doubt as to his identity?”
    â€œNone whatever. But those are not his shoes. I should know, I polish them every day. When he left this morning, he was wearing black shoes, the pair with the reinforced soles that he always wore to work.”
    Maigret removed the sheet.
    â€œIs this his overcoat?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd his suit?”
    â€œYes, that’s his. But that isn’t his tie. He would never have worn anything so garish. Why, you could almost call it red!”
    â€œWas your husband a man of regular habits?”
    â€œHe certainly was. Ask my sister. Every morning he caught the bus at the corner, which got him to Juvisy station in time to catch the 8:17 train. He always traveled with our neighbor Monsieur Beaudoin, who works in the Inland Revenue. From the Gare de Lyon, they went on to Saint-Martin by Métro.”
    The employee of the Forensic Laboratory made a sign to Maigret. Realizing what was required of him, he led the two women towards a table on which the contents of the dead man’s pockets had been laid out.
    â€œI take it you recognize these things?”
    There was a silver watch and chain, a plain handkerchief without initials, an open packet of Gauloise cigarettes, a lighter, a key, and, lying beside the man’s wallet, a couple of bluish ticket stubs.
    The first things that caught her eye were the ticket stubs:
    â€œThose are cinema tickets,” she said.
    Maigret examined them, and said:
    â€œA newsreel cinema in the Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle. The figures are a bit rubbed but, as far as I can see, they were issued today.”
    â€œThat’s not possible. Did you hear that, Jeanne?”
    â€œIt does seem odd,” said her sister, without emotion.
    â€œWould you please take a look at the contents of the wallet.”
    She did so, and frowned.
    â€œLouis didn’t have as much money as this on him when he left this morning.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œI always see to it myself that he has money in his wallet. At most he had a thousand-franc note, and two or three hundred-franc notes.”
    â€œCouldn’t he, perhaps, have collected his pay?”
    â€œHe didn’t get paid till the end of the month.”
    â€œHow much did he usually have left at the end of the day?”
    â€œAll of it, less the price of his Métro ticket and his cigarettes. He had a season ticket for the train.”
    She seemed about to put the wallet in her bag, but thought better of it.
    â€œI daresay you’ll want to keep this for a while?”
    â€œFor the time being, yes.”
    â€œWhat puzzles me is why they should have changed his shoes and tie. And what he was doing away from the shop at the time it happened.”
    Maigret, not wishing to harass her, asked no further questions, but merely handed her the necessary forms to sign.
    â€œAre you going straight home?”
    â€œWhen can we have the body?”
    â€œIn